Risking It All (Rebels 0f Forbidden Lake Book 5) Read online

  “Mm hmm,” she said, feeling flattered but also a great weight on her shoulders. What if he was disappointed in who she was? “That’s what I thought.”

  Declan sure seemed to like her, and Mia held onto that, hoping for a romantic night in the city and not a disaster. When Sandra returned with the basket of snacks, Mia picked out a bag of chocolate chip cookies and shook them at Declan.

  He laughed, said, “I should’ve known. Mia and her cookies,” and Mia ripped into the bag with a laugh of her own coming out of her mouth.

  She liked this slower way of getting to know a man, and she could only pray that it wouldn’t drive Declan mad.

  Chapter Six

  Declan had always been able to sense how someone felt, and the tension radiating off Mia was palpable. He wanted to reassure her that he’d play by her rules, no matter what they were, but he didn’t want to come across as desperate.

  He sipped his soda, and said, “Have I ever told you about the music studio I built in a treehouse?” He knew he hadn’t. He didn’t normally bring up things from his past, though she knew he’d left home as soon as possible, and then gone back the moment he was able to help his mother and siblings.

  “You had a tree house?” she asked.

  “Built it myself,” he said, looking at his hands as if they remembered all the work. “I was thirteen, and desperate to get away from my step-father. My dad was good with a hammer, and I imagined him to be looking down on me from heaven as I tried to get the structure to hold.”

  Mia’s hand touched his, and he looked up at her. “You never talk about your dad.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t know him all that well,” Declan said, a ball of emotion wedging itself in his throat. “He died when I was eight and Marjorie was four. My mom remarried a couple of years later. Kingston came along a couple of years after that.” He shrugged, though those years held so many important things.

  Life-changing things.

  Everything.

  “And your step-father was mean,” Mia said.

  That was the understatement of the century, but Declan just nodded. “So I went across the street and down a bit to this tree on the other side of the river. I don’t know whose tree it was, but no one ever said anything to me about it.”

  Mia’s fingers tightened on his. “All of my brothers built tree houses.”

  “Better than mine, I’m sure,” Declan said, enjoying the easy conversation. “I scrounged for materials, taking wood from old barns and pocketing nails from the hardware store.”

  “You stole nails?”

  Declan chuckled. “I went back when I signed my first record deal and gave them a bunch of money.” He looked at her, the joviality running right out of him. “The owner, this guy named Butch Valentine. Butch Valentine, Mia.” He smiled, hoping his emotions wouldn’t touch his tone of voice.

  She giggled, giving him a minute to breath. To swallow. To center himself.

  “He said he knew I’d taken them, but he figured I needed them more than him.” Declan didn’t want to continue, but he saw the curiosity in Mia’s expression. “Everyone knew my step-dad was a drunk and hitting us. No one helped, though I guess, in some small way, Butch did. And sometimes we’d open the front door and find food on the porch. And twice, I found a case of soda in my recording studio tree house, and a new pair of shoes for Marjorie.”

  Those acts of kindness had buoyed Declan enough to get him through high school, feverish in his desire to write and make music. And as soon as he’d inked that deal, he’d returned to Spring Glen and filed charges against the man his mother couldn’t get away from.

  “Anyway, my ‘recording studio’ was me and a notebook I also stole from the supply closet in my teacher’s classroom. And an old tape player that would record. I had one tape, and I filled both sides about every other week.”

  He’d researched the music industry, knew how to send out demo tapes, and how to query agents. He’d done everything he could, while constantly working on the quality of his songs, his voice, anything he could.

  He was not going to live beneath Thomas Reinholt’s thumb, and he wasn’t going to leave his mother or siblings behind either.

  And he hadn’t.

  Instead of answering the charges, Thomas had left town. Declan told him if he even smelled him within fifty miles of Spring Green, or the Michigan border for that matter, he’d have cops surrounding him in minutes.

  And he had the money to do it now, too.

  Mia got up and took the two steps between their chairs, settling herself on his lap. He laid his cheek against her shoulder, the scent of her the most comforting thing in the world. They existed in silence, and Declan liked that almost as much as the music he typically surrounded himself with.

  As the plane started to descend, he said, “I started writing a song about you,” expecting her to freeze.

  She did, lifting her head away from where she’d bent it against his. As she looked down at him, Declan thought for a moment that she’d kiss him. Maybe in the past, she would have. He’d seen her drop her eyes to his mouth before, in fact.

  This time, she didn’t. “About me?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “It’s called Secret Weakness. It’s going to be great.”

  “Fast or slow?”

  “Ballad,” he said as she shimmied off his lap and returned to her own seat.

  She reached for her seatbelt just as Sandra poked her head around the corner and said, “The captain has asked you to put on your seat belt.”

  “Thank you,” Declan said, hesitating for a moment longer as Mia’s dark curtain of hair fell between them. Soon enough, the plane touched down, and preparations were made to de-plane.

  Darkness wasn’t far off when the door finally opened, and Declan secured his hand in Mia’s as they walked off the plane together. A car waited on the tarmac, and he waited for her to say something about it.

  But she didn’t, and Declan really liked that. It was no secret how much money he had—it was Google-able for crying out loud—and he didn’t like having to justify himself for everything he did. It wasn’t a crime to have money.

  “James,” he said with a huge smile when his feet touched solid ground again. “My main man, how are you?” He did a hand shake combination with his driver and bodyguard whenever he came to Chicago, and the man grinned back at him.

  “Hangin’ in there,” he said. “And you, sir? Flew to England this summer, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I was going to take you,” he said. “But it ended up being a family trip, and my grandmother lives way out in the middle of the countryside. I think there were a couple of days where I didn’t even see another human.” He chuckled, and James opened the back door for him, his eyes cutting to Mia.

  “This is my….” Declan seized, not knowing how to finish.

  Mia’s eyes rounded, and she stuck out her hand for James to shake. “I’m Mia Addler.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mia.” James waited for Declan to get in the car, but he ushered Mia forward first, his eyes stuck to his driver’s.

  “She’s beautiful,” James murmured, as Declan moved in front of him to get in the car too. “And you didn’t know what to call her?”

  “It’s complicated,” Declan muttered, lowering himself into the car. By the stormy look on her face, Mia didn’t like the introduction either, but Declan didn’t have a manual for this relationship. Or this woman.

  He didn’t even want one.

  The car started to move, and he said, “So that was awkward. I apologize.”

  “I guess we don’t know what we are.”

  Declan knew what he wanted. He thought he’d made it clear. Maybe she needed things to be stated a little more explicitly. “If it were up to me,” he said. “I’d have called you my girlfriend. James is a trusted employee. He wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  “It’s not that,” she said.

  “Then what is it?”

  She didn’t answer, but the indecision raging
in her eyes said enough. “You’re not sure you want to be my girlfriend.”

  “I do,” she said. “I just….”

  “Have Daddy issues,” he said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

  Mia folded her arms and her legs and looked out the window away from him. “It’s not bad to want to belong to my family.”

  “I know that,” he said quietly. No, he didn’t quite understand it, as he didn’t have the strong, foundational family she had. Yes, he had strong ties with Kingtson, and he had with Marjorie, too, before her death.

  His mother was a different kind of beast, her mind almost like Swiss cheese from all the gaslighting over the years. The abuse. The struggle to know she was valued. Declan had learned at a very young age how to take care of himself and his siblings, and that was where his loyalty lay.

  So no, he didn’t quite understand Mia’s seemingly undying devotion to her parents and their wishes.

  “I want to be with you,” she finally said, and Declan swung his attention toward her as surprise leaked through his system. She met his eye, and that tension continued here in the back of the luxury car. “My brother and sister said I should just keep you a secret for a while.”

  “I can live with that,” Declan said. “Most of my life is lived in secret anyway.”

  “You’re a very public figure,” she said. “We wouldn’t be able to go out together. In fact, tonight at this club is probably a mistake.”

  “Nah,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t open the car door and fling herself out of a moving vehicle. “James takes us right to the private entrance in the back, and there will be a table waiting for us. The same woman waits on me every time. No one will know I’m even in town.”

  “Someone will know,” she said, her dark eyes glittering now. “I mean, you’re Declan Phelps.”

  He slid closer to her and took her hand in his, lifting her wrist to his lips. “Just you and me, baby,” he whispered. “We’re the only ones who need to know.”

  “Well, James knows. And I gave him my real name.” She sounded slightly horrified as she leaned into Declan’s side.

  “Who would you want to be if you weren’t Mia Addler?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said a little too quickly.

  “Oh, come on,” he said, feeling the tension between them lessen. “Marjorie always hated her name, and she used to tell people her name was Mary or Maggie. She always wanted to be someone else.”

  Mia hesitated long enough that Declan knew she’d done this too. “Well, I’m the youngest, right? Sometimes my mom would literally call me every other name in the family but mine. Like she’d forgotten who I was. She’d even go through the boy’s names sometimes.”

  “Yeah, because you’re so much like Liam.” Declan chuckled, leaning down to touch his lips to her earlobe. She leaned into him part-way and then pulled back as if she’d gotten shocked. Declan straightened, recommitting to himself to let her set the physical pace between them.

  “I wanted to be a Tiffany or a Candy,” she said. “A girl who got all the boys and wore all the cute skirts to school.”

  “You have cute skirts now,” he said. “I saw one earlier today.” And she clearly didn’t know how much she affected him—and probably every other male on the planet.

  “Yeah,” she said, sighing into his chest as she put one arm across his stomach and held him close to her. Declan felt a measure of happiness move through him that he’d been missing since her father had asked him to please leave Mia alone.

  “But I wanted the cute skirts and the boys when I was fifteen,” she said. “And I never had them.”

  Declan didn’t point out the things she did have, then or now. He knew exactly where she was coming from, and he wouldn’t want anyone to try to make his past better by saying he had a great life now.

  One didn’t erase the other, and he knew that better than most.

  The car eased to a stop, and he said, “So who is it tonight? Tiffany or Candy?”

  She lifted her head and looked at him. “Tiffany. And I want to be your girlfriend.”

  “Deal,” he said, smiling all over inside but remaining stoic on the outside. “You know I’ll do whatever you want, right?” he whispered, knowing James was going to open the door at any moment.

  In fact, he did before Mia could answer, and Declan unfolded himself from the vehicle as if he was about to step onto a red carpet, a dozen digital cameras clicking in his direction. In reality, it was just a dark alley, and a muscled man standing at the already open door that led into the private club.

  “Thank you, James,” Declan said, and he extended his hand to help Mia from the car. He nodded to Paul as he approached. “How are the twins, Paul?”

  “Great, Mister Phelps.” He nodded back. “Val will take you to your table.”

  “Thanks,” he said and stepped past the bouncer with twin four-year-old daughters. Val appeared at the end of the hall, a smile on her face. He’d never seen Val anything but thrilled to see him, and they exchanged air kisses.

  “Val,” he said, stepping back to allow Mia to say hello. “My girlfriend, Tiffany.”

  Mia smiled for all she was worth. “Hello, Val.” Val kissed both of her cheeks too and leaned forward to say in a stage whisper, “Wow, how’d you get Declan to agree to the G-word?” She trilled out a laugh, gave him a knowing look, and led the way to the private table in the back of the club.

  Chapter Seven

  Mia felt like she’d entered a movie where the rich and famous got whisked around in expensive vehicles and catered to. That was exactly what was happening. Someone had put her in a bubble, and her life hardly felt like her own.

  And she really liked it.

  “Tiffany?”

  She jolted as Declan’s hand landed on her thigh. “She wants to know what you want to drink, love.”

  “Oh, uh, Diet Coke with lemon,” she said, giving Val another smile at full wattage. She nodded and walked away before Mia dared to look at Declan.

  He sat on the same side of the booth as she did, with a full view of the club before him. “So, Tiffany, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “G-word?” Mia murmured, putting her hand over his on her thigh and inching it down. Her skin felt like someone had sent electricity through it, even through the fabric of her dress.

  “Haven’t had a girlfriend for a while,” he said back. “I told you that last time we went out.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I guess I just…thought you’d had a lot of girlfriends. Certainly ones you’d bring here.”

  “Nope.” He gazed evenly at her, and it undid all of her composure. She was almost desperate for her phone so she’d have something to focus on, but he’d taken it from her, and they’d left them on the plane.

  “This place was—is—a sanctuary for me. I don’t bring women here unless they are important to me.”

  “So how many have you brought?” Mia noted that he’d brought her here, and that meant she was important to him. She wished it didn’t make her feel quite so warm.

  “You’d be the first,” he said just as Val arrived with their drinks.

  “I put in your order,” she said. “Anything you wanted to add to it?”

  Declan looked at Mia, as did Val. “I’m fine,” she said.

  “She wants chips and guac,” Declan said before she could even finish the last word. “And I want her to try the duck confit tacos, if you could add those two things.”

  “Sure thing, hon.” Val left, and Mia noticed that she didn’t seem to have any other tables. In fact, all the tables along the back only had one waitress that approached them, ever. It was like there was an undrawn line of the floor that no one else crossed. Of course, there probably was.

  Mia lifted her soda to her lips and sipped. “I don’t believe you, you know. I’m the first one you’ve brought here. Right.”

  “First female,” he said.

  “It’s not like I can contradict you.”
r />   “You can ask Val.”

  “Right. Like she’d go against what you said.”

  “I’m not lying.” Declan looked at her, and she found the river of suppressed anger in his eyes.

  “Okay,” she said. “It’s just a lot of pressure.”

  “No pressure.” He lifted his arm around her shoulders. “In fact, that’s what makes the secret relationship so fun. No pressure to act like the perfectly happy couple all the time.”

  She supposed he was right. Curling her fingers around his, she looked around the club. It was definitely busy for a Friday night, and the music pounded through the space. But back here, it was quieter, more intimate, and Mia liked seeing the club from behind the invisible wall.

  “How’d you find this place?” she asked.

  “Leon’s family owns it,” he said. “When he joined the band, we started having meetings here. Then we’d come for fun. I started coming by myself a few years back, about the time Marjorie died.” He stopped talking then, and Mia let him retreat inside himself for a moment. He did sometimes, and she didn’t mind.

  He always came back to her, and that was what was important.

  He shook himself out of his thoughts when Val set the platter of macaroni and cheese bites in front of him. “And the duck confit tacos. Chips and guac. Tri-tip steak sandwich. And loaded mashed potatoes.” She surveyed the plethora of food in front of them. “All set, hon?”

  “Yes, thanks, Val.” He beamed up at her for a quick moment and then looked at Mia. “Ready for your world to be blown up?” He nudged the plate of macaroni and cheese balls toward her.

  He picked one up and dunked it in the marinara sauce. “This is alfredo,” he said. “It’s also delicious. And that’s pesto.” He smacked his lips together as he indicated the third small bowl of sauce on the plate. “So good.”

  Mia thought he’d eat the bite he’d picked up, but he extended it toward her as if he’d feed her. “Open up,” he said, and she did as he wanted her to.

  Declan was one of the sexiest men Mia had ever met, and getting fed by him was definitely one of the hottest things he’d done. The flavor of cheese and salt, the crunch from the breadcrumbs, and the sweet marinara sauce made a party in her mouth.